


Challenge

by theprettynerdie



Series: Belnades & Belmont [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettynerdie/pseuds/theprettynerdie
Summary: "Tenderness is decidedly not on menu for tonight. Sypha sees a challenge in Trevor’s words. And dammit, she accepts."Or, why saying "beer is better than sex" is probably not the best idea. Very minor spoilers for season 3. Sequel to RUDE.
Relationships: Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Series: Belnades & Belmont [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657162
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	Challenge

_Better than sex._

It was hours after the fact, well past midnight, but Trevor’s comment was still rattling around inside Sypha’s head.

He’d been immediately contrite, had explained away his poorly-chosen words as mere hyperbole, but still, they stung. Of course Sypha has not had _that_ much practical experience with the act—not until very recently—but Trevor always seemed incredibly satisfied with their interactions.

To be perfectly honest, Sypha had been quite looking forward to a long night of _proper_ lovemaking, in the gloriously large, soft bed waiting for them at the inn—something more tender and sweet and slow than what they could afford to to, freezing, in the back of a wagon in the middle of a forest.

_Better than sex._

Tenderness is decidedly _not_ on menu for tonight. Sypha sees a challenge in Trevor’s words. And dammit, she accepts.

* * *

They eat their dinner beside each other in complete silence. Sypha keeps her head deliberately turned away from Trevor, who keeps shooting her sideways glances, trying to gauge her mood. 

“So,” he says at last, attempting to keep his tone light, “you do know I—I didn’t mean what I said earlier, right?”

Sypha takes a bite of her stew. “About what?”

“Well…about, you know…beer being better than sex. Because it’s not true.”

“I wonder…” Sypha says, getting to her feet and heading for their room without a glance in Trevor’s direction, “whether the reason you regret saying it is because you’re worried I’ll _withhold_ something from you tonight.”

Trevor follows her up the stairs and into their room, grabbing for her hand. “I regret saying it because it wasn’t true.”

She finally turns to look at him, and she sees the sincerity in his expression. She sighs.

“I _was_ considering not letting you come at all tonight. As punishment.” Trevor’s eyes widen. “But you can _try_ to convince me otherwise.”

He pulls her close and almost immediately, his lips are on hers, pressing them open. Sypha lets him do what he will, staying pliant and accommodating as he undresses her between heated kisses and presses her onto the bed. But when he goes to unbutton his own tunic, she pulls his hand away.

“No,” she says, “Not yet. You’re going to have to _convince me_ before you strip a single piece of clothing off yourself.”

“Sypha,” he growls. They can both feel how he’s hardening beneath his trousers, but her expression, and her will, do not falter. She simply quirks an eyebrow at him, watching him carefully and firmly, until he sighs heavily and drops to his knees.

His hands part her thighs with now-practiced ease. Trevor’s gotten good at this in the month since they’d started doing it, gotten good at using his fingers to spread her folds wide and probe inside of her up to three at a time. He’s also gotten good at kissing and licking the most intimate parts of her in _just_ the right way to wrest pretty little noises from her pretty little throat, so he does all that and more. The legs thrown over his shoulder shudder and her chest heaves as she pants, muffling her sounds of delight behind her hand. 

And it’s torture, pure _torture,_ to listen to her and feel her like this when his cock, hard as stone, is trapped under his clothes, aching to be touched. Sypha makes a deep, satisfied sound low in her throat and his free hand, automatically, drops to lap to press against the ache between his legs.

There’s a sudden jolt of what must be static electricity that runs through the offending arm. Sypha hasn’t even lifted her head to look at him. “You don’t get to touch yourself,” she murmurs. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

Frustrated, Trevor’s hand reaches up to her breast instead, so his fingers can pinch and twist at one nipple, then the other.

“Oh!” Sypha gasps. Her cunt _quivers._

So he does it again. 

As his fingers pump in and out of her steadily, he tempts her clit from its hood with his tongue and then sucks gently. Sypha lets out a loud cry, then shoves a knuckle inside her mouth to muffle the noise as she _whines_ desperately. 

He fucks her with his fingers, sucks on her clit, pinches and plays with her breast, until her whines become a single long, plaintive wail and she comes, legs kicking against the back of his shoulders and her hands painful on the back of his head, grasping at his hair for dear life. 

When the last of the aftershocks have passed, and the wild beating of her heart has reduced to a manageable tempo, Sypha picks up her head just enough to look, through heavily-lidded eyes, at Trevor, who smirks at her—well, _tries to_ , anyway. It comes out more like a grimace, given the state that he’s in.

“So,” he grits out through clenched teeth. His hands, which have come to rest at the edge of the bed in front of him, are clenched tightly in the sheets. “Have I earned it now?”

Sypha gives him a smirk of her own. “Not quite.”

Trevor groans and slams his forehead against the corner of the mattress. 

_“Sypha!”_

“Take off your clothes,” she says. “But don’t touch yourself.”

Gingerly, Trevor does as he’s told. Strips completely bare, trying not to groan along the way, even as his cock, finally freed from its confines, strains to reach his stomach, _begging_ to be touched.

Sypha watches him, smiling gently, and props herself up on her elbows. “Lay down on your back,” she instructs. She doesn’t climb on top of him or even reach over to stroke him after he complies—not yet, anyway. “I want you to look at me. Don’t close your eyes, not for a moment.”

She waits for him to nod. Then she _finally_ reaches over and takes his cock in hand. Trevor’s entire body shivers as heat blooms low in his belly, and it’s already proving difficult for him to keep his promise to keep his eyes on her.

But he doesn’t falter, not for a moment. He’d already disappointed her earlier in the day; he won’t disappoint her now. Whatever it bloody well takes, he’s _going_ to earn it.

Sypha doesn’t look away from him either. She keeps both eyes steadfastly trained on his face, even as she slides downward to take him halfway inside her mouth, trusting instinct well enough by now to find the most sensitive places of the most intimate part of him, and _dammit_ she’s good. She knows just how firmly and where to stroke at the head, where and how to lick on the underside, and just how much much pressure to apply when she takes each of his balls into his mouth in turn and _sucks._

Trevor lets out a tremulous cry, but his eyes never leave hers. 

“I want to hear the words,” she says. She’s pulled off of his cock, but her hand still strokes him up and down, keeping him on edge as she speaks. 

The words come tumbling out of him. “Sex is better than beer.”

There’s a single moment of silence, and then Sypha _laughs._

“No, no,” she chuckles. She dips forward to suck at the tip of his cock, milking drops of precum onto her tongue. Trevor groans. “Not _that_. You know what I want to hear.”

His eyes are glazed over, and his heart is racing. “Please… let me come …For you.”

Sypha hoists herself upward so the heat of their bodies meets.

“That’s right. For _me.”_ She sinks down, taking his cock inside herself by degrees, until he’s fully hilted and their hips are flush against each other.

Sypha leans forward so they’re pressed against each other, chest to chest, and kisses him fiercely. She doesn’t move and he doesn’t move; they lay there, joined together at the root, steadying the pace of their hearts.

Only when the threat of orgasm has receded does Sypha begin to move, slowly and smoothly at first, reveling in the _heat_ of it all. Trevor’s hands are everywhere, touching any part of her body he can reach, moving from one place to the next as though he simply can’t decide which he wants to hold.

“ _God, Sypha,”_ he murmurs, eyes still dutifully locked with hers. “You…”

“Yes?” She begins to pick up the pace steadily, still taking him as deeply as she can, “I what?”

“Hnngg, Sypha.” Two hands come to rest on her waist. “You’re _beautiful_.”

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it was not that. She impales herself on his cock sharply and _shrieks_ , quite literally, as her climax hits her, overwhelming and wholly unexpected. 

“You’ve earned it!” she yells into the night. “Trevor—”

The hands on her waist tighten their grip, and then he’s _pounding_ into her ruthlessly, perfectly, fucking her with the kind of ferocity she’s seen from him in battle. But his eyes—the ones still completely focused on her, even now—are not just hard and determined. 

They’re almost worshipful.

Oh, oh. _Oh_.

“Come,” she says. “Come. _For me_.”

She demands it, and he has no choice but to relent.

Trevor comes hard, spilling within her with a loud sob of pure pleasure and relief. His eyes finally close as his climax overtakes him, and by the time he’s filled her to the absolute brim—to the point that Sypha can feel his cum sliding out from inside her and down her thigh—he’s sure he’s somewhere near the juncture between heaven and earth. 

Or life and death. Whichever it is, it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment anyway.

Trevor doesn’t pull out of her right away, and Sypha doesn’t move to dismount him either. Instead, she presses her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat return to a normal pace, pressing stray kisses to the scars she finds there. At the beginning of the evening, tenderness had absolutely been the farthest thing from Sypha’s mind. This turn of events had certainly been unexpected, but not at all unpleasant.

Not at all.

Eventually, Trevor softens and slips from her body, and Sypha rolls off of him and onto her side. She leans forward to give his cheek a small kiss of affection.

“Do you really think so?” she whispers.

“What?”

“What you said—about me?”

“What?”

“That I’m…beautiful?”

“Hm. Yeah. I said it, didn’t I?”

“Well how am I supposed to know what you mean or don’t mean?”

“I guess I thought only one of the two things I said tonight was _obviously_ true. It’s not my fault you haven’t got a lick of common sense.”

“You know, I could still keep my promise to shove my foot up your ass tonight. But for all I know, you’d probably like it.”

Trevor scoffs. “Probably,” she says, waving a hand dismissively.

“Ah but of course…we _both_ know you’d probably like it if I shoved something _else_ up there.” 

Trevor, to his credit, only blanches slightly.

“But what do I know?” Sypha yawns, turning over and shutting her eyes. “I’m sure they’re both differently good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr: theprettynerdie.tumblr.com and prettynerdieworks.tumblr.com


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